


Nylon: Chapter Three - "Second Skin"

by ExtremistComics



Series: Nylon [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, BDSM, Clothing Kink, Come Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Futanari, Hand Jobs, MILFs, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Other, Pantyhose, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Prostate Milking, Scent Kink, Self-Bondage, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtremistComics/pseuds/ExtremistComics
Summary: Flora meets with Beatrix’ tailor, the vivacious Ms. Lola Goldman, who has a hell of a time flirting with the bashful Flora and imparting some lessons about Bea’s love life. After an awkward encounter with Andie, Flora has some interesting “alone time” before Bea returns. Dinner will follow, then vigorous sex. Répondez s'il vous plait.
Series: Nylon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974739
Kudos: 6





	Nylon: Chapter Three - "Second Skin"

In the morning, Bea let Flora know she had to head out on business. A retailer with a handful of locations in Michigan was declaring bankruptcy, and State was negotiating to buy three of their properties, to which the company had responded with a tempting offer to buy them out entirely. Flora pondered how often their weekends together would actually be weekends, but was distracted by the mesmerizing sight of Bea cramming herself into her bra and wriggling that delicious butt into her pantyhose.

“I had a lot of fun yesterday,” Flora said, “and I don’t just mean the obvious.” “I’ll only be a few hours,” Bea said, “by the time you grab a bite of breakfast and get back from Ms. Lola Goldman’s I’ll probably be halfway home.”

“Oh,” Flora said, “I was going to head home from there. Do you want me to stay?”

Bea grinned a little more at this than Flora expected. “We have the weekend, sort of, I figured we might as well make the most of it,” Bea said, “we’ve hardly said two words to each other outside barking orders at work since our first little office party.”

“You don’t ‘bark orders’ at me,” Flora laughed, “at least not without your cock up my ass. I’d love to stay. I might like it too much, actually, if I get used to sleeping somewhere that doesn’t smell like the pet shop on the first floor of my building I might move my stuff in here when you’re not looking.”

“Christ, that sounds awful,” Bea said. “I thought we were paying you enough that you weren’t living in a Depression-era hobo camp.” “Well, yeah,” Flora said, “it’s not actually that bad, but the first floor does get a little hamster-chippy.” Bea turned as she was putting her earrings in and gave Flora a Serious Look. “If you want to stay over every so often, don’t exactly start packing bags yet, but you’re welcome to it,” she said. “I’m barely even home half the time anyway.”

“So, Ms. Lola Goldman?” Flora asked. “She insists you say the whole thing,” Bea said, “she’s not that old, but she’s very old fashioned.” “Nobody ever addressed people by their full name and title like that,” Flora said, “that’s not old fashioned, that’s just odd.” “You can call her Ms. Lola,” Bea said, “but don’t call her Lola. And in third person, yes, it’s ‘Ms. Lola Goldman.’ Don’t look at me, there’s a reason people do whatever she says, the woman is a miracle worker. And she’s got a dynamite figure, as she would say.”

“Oh,” Flora said in a drawn-out moan. “So she’s another one of your special friends. How old is this woman exactly?”

“Early 50s, I think,” Bea said. “she’s just weirdly old-timey. It’s an image thing. And yes, we’ve had some times in the past. Don’t be surprised if she hits on you, you’re sort of her type and I mentioned how cute you are.”

“Her type?” Flora asked, “What type is there that you and me both fit, exactly?” “Attractive women with dicks,” Bea said, “and also attractive women without dicks, most of the time. I didn’t say she was picky, you’re just very pretty.” Flora had never seen a woman apply lipstick as carefully as Bea, and she somehow did it more quickly than Flora did. “And it’s ‘you and I,” Bea noted, “subject, not object.”

Flora didn’t know she had a kink for having her grammar corrected by a half-dressed businesswoman while she puts on lipstick, but this weekend was a time for exploration.

Flora was told to be at Ms. Lola Goldman’s shop at 11 AM. She arrived at 10:43, quickly realizing that the messy business of eating her muffin and packet of almonds as she drove was an unnecessary time-saving scheme.

Ms. Lola Goldman had to unlock the door for her, but she operated by appointment anyway, so this wasn’t unusual. “Ms. Lola Goldman?” Flora asked, prompting an unexpected smirk and giggle. “Yep, you’re definitely one of Bea’s,” Ms. Lola said.

Ms. Lola Goldman was a bit taller than Flora, but was wearing her usual gratuitously tall heels, so she must have actually been a little shorter, minus the mound of jet black hair, laying in a cute mop of broad curls. Flora hadn’t noticed this, as Ms. Lola Goldman did not walk like a woman in tall heels, barring the exceptional spring they gave her plump rear. Ms. Lola was full-figured with a capital double-F. With her healthy waist, she only bore a remarkable hourglass shape because of the sheer scale of her bust and hips. Some people, Flora thought, would say she had a pretty face, but was well beyond curvy into fat. Flora, conversely, spent every second Ms. Lola’s face was turned away from hers taking in the hypnotic sight of her body. The room had numerous mirrors, of course, so this was actually no secret to Ms. Lola.

“Ms. Buck has you down for a suit with a skirt, and this delightful red dress,” Ms. Lola said. “Red dress?” Flora asked. “It’s a very dark red, sweetie,” Ms. Lola said, “it’s not Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_ , it’ll look just marvelous on you. Step back here.”

Ms. Lola took Flora back into the fitting room. “You seem a bit shy,” Ms. Lola said, “but in my line of work, modesty isn’t a luxury we have. I just want to warn you. I have to really get in there to get a good fit. It’s all part of the job. Let me help you with that.”

Ms. Lola began unbuttoning Flora’s blouse, with exactly the care Bea had given her, but more speed. Flora still got a little thrill when the top came free from her shoulders, though, reminded of Bea’s treatment the previous night. “You actually have something going on up there,” Ms. Lola said, “you should wear your shirts a little less baggy. They’re not exactly cantaloupes, but they look nice on that skinny body.” Ms. Lola adjusted Flora’s bra, lifting her breasts slightly. “Did you get measured for this? What band size is this thing?”

“32 I think,” Flora said, “32B. I just bought one that looked right, and it fit pretty well, so I just…” “Nonsense,” Ms. Lola said, “so many girls are walking around in the wrong bra. You’ve got a little bit of that Bettie Page ribcage, you’re skinny but you’re not a 32.” Ms. Lola began unhooking her bra. “I can measure you real quick,” she said. Before Flora could even decide whether she was alright with this, her bra was off. “Arms up,” Ms. Lola said, already holding the tape. Flora didn’t notice until she said this that she’d instinctively covered herself.

“Don’t be embarrassed, they’re very nice,” Ms. Lola said unhelpfully. “Thank you?” Flora muttered. “Just a hair under 29 inches,” Ms. Lola says, “I thought so.” “29?” Flora asked. “The band sizes don’t use the same numbers. They fucked all this up pretty good, didn’t they? It’s so much more confusing than it needs to be.” Ms. Lola put the tape across her breasts this time, and the sudden light touch on her nipples made Flora shiver a bit. “35 exactly,” Ms. Lola noted, “I was right, you’re better off in a 34B. I’ll send you home with one today, that’s on me. See if it fits better. I’ll get you one that’ll give you a little lift, too, make them stand up under those frumpy blouses. You don’t need any help with those perky little things, but the bra you came in with was mashing them down like pancakes. Shame what girls are doing to themselves these days, nobody gets a real fitting anymore.”

Ms. Lola was practically buzzing around Flora, operating at a pace that Flora stopped trying to follow entirely. Flora just did as she was told, trusting a woman that seemed to be one with the fashion universe. Flora barely even noticed this uniquely sexy lady removing her shoes and pants, only noticing she was reduced to her socks and panties when Ms. Lola stood back to get a look at her. “Bea guessed at your measurements so I’d have somewhere to start,” Ms. Lola said, “and I think she was close. You are a skinny one, but it suits you. And you have hips, which is good, it gives you a figure. I see why Bea is so upside-down over you, you’re real cute. Let’s get this dress on you while you’ve got your bra off.” As walked by Flora, she made eye contact just long enough to draw attention to her eyes darting downward, then back up. Flora’s panties were noticeably being stretched a little bit further in the front than usual. As she passed, she gave a light tap to Flora’s butt. “Somebody seems to be having fun,” Ms. Lola said, “I hope I can get this dress on over that thing.”

The red dress was strapless, with only a slight asymmetry at the hemline, a gentle slope that left the bottom a little longer at the left, that side bearing a narrow cutout up the side almost to the hip. Apart from that, it was basically a satiny tube, and Flora founds herself wondering what brilliant craft went into a garment like this that made it worth whatever absurdity Bea was paying for it. Ms. Lola helped slip it on. It was a bit snug at the hips, and a bit loose in other places. Ms. Lola took a step back, laughed, and said, “Feel free to, umm, adjust yourself, sweetie.” Flora squatted a bit to conceal the amount of contact she had to make with her dick to get it into a less embarrassing position, then stood up. It was still clearly visible, just pointing upward instead of outward, being uncomfortably cut in half by the band of her panties. “You might have to take certain undergarment precautions when you wear this,” Ms. Lola said, “or maybe just a cold shower beforehand.” She paused, taking a needlessly long look directly at the distracting anatomical detail. “You should wear something like this if I end up taking you home to my parents, though,” she joked, “my mother will take one look at that thing and think I’ve finally brought home a nice Jewish girl.”

“It’s a bit snug in the hips, and, uhh, thereabouts,” Flora said, “but it’s flopping a bit everywhere else.” “That’s all easy,” Ms. Lola said, “I can imagine what it will look like when it’s finished, and it’s going to be absolutely delicious on you. Trust the wise old lady.”

Ms. Lola helped her out of the dress, which was another humiliating ordeal for the day’s pile. “I need to take the rest of your measurements now,” Ms. Lola said, “try to contain your excitement.” Ms. Lola wrapped the tape around Flora’s waist. “Ay Chihuahua,” she said, “what I wouldn’t give to have this number in my calf column, let alone my waist.” Ms. Lola was exaggerating. Her body wore her weight like a Versace gown, whether she appreciated her own voluptuous proportions or not. Ms. Lola was wearing a gold dress that hugged her in a way that indicated she did actually understand how alluring her figure was, including a plunging neckline that invited every bit of attention it drew. Ms. Lola’s breasts were a little bigger than Bea’s, though maybe they only appeared that way on her much shorter body. Ms. Lola topped off her Old Hollywood glamour with bright red lipstick, much more vivid than the slightly more tasteful shades Bea wore, but purposeful in its audacity. She had a very retro dusting of pale blue eyeshadow atop bold eyeliner, and gold pendant earrings with adorned with bright red stones that damn near brushed her shoulders. Flora hadn’t paid much attention to all this, as enticing as she did find it, because Ms. Lola was also wearing pantyhose, and while the dress she wore was hardly daringly short, it showed just enough of her short, stout legs that Flora caught herself staring at them as often as anything else. They weren’t like Bea’s, Bea wearing her just a shade or two darker than her own skin, which was neither pale nor tan. Ms. Lola’s were a statement, so dark they were almost as black as they were brown, especially contrasted with her quite fair skin. Flora’s tastes ran more toward Bea’s style, but Ms. Lola wasn’t a creature of subtlety, and Flora found that enchanting in its own way.

“Hips,” Ms. Lola said, but rather than standing behind Flora, she knelt down in front of her, face sitting tantalizingly close to Flora’s crotch, though she wouldn’t have been quite so near if there weren’t something sticking straight out from between those hips. Flora had made sure to adjust herself back into her panties completely, rather than exposing herself with her crude upward tuck job. As a consequence, she was pointing like a compass, her state not having abated any. “I’m not fitting you for pants today,” Ms. Lola said, “but while I’m down here with the tape, are there any other things you’d like me to measure?” Flora wouldn’t have laughed out loud if she wasn’t coaxing it out of herself deliberately to break the tension. “I’m kidding, sweetie,” Ms. Lola said, “it happens all the time. Don’t go blushing on me.”

Ms. Lola took a few other measurements, then brought out the blouse, blazer and skirt Bea had chosen. “You’ll be the queen bitch of American capitalism in this one,” Ms. Lola said. “Do you like it?” “It’s perfect,” Flora said. “What about the dress?” Ms. Lola asked, “you didn’t seem too sure about that one.” “It’s not my usual style,” Flora said, “but I’m trying new things lately, I guess. It’s definitely pretty.” “It’s good to try new things,” Ms. Lola said, “but would you like to come into the back and slip into something a little older?” She guffawed at a bracing volume before biting her lip a bit and turning her head to the side. “Sorry, I’m being bad today,” she said, blushing a little herself, “I’m on these hormones they give ladies my age now, and it’s got me a little turned around. I’m in the sitting-on-the-washing-machine stage lately, if you must know.”

“I just had sex with my boss,” Flora said, her voice creaking with embarrassment, “and now her tailor is fitting me for a little red dress, I’m nobody to judge anymore.” “I’m sure you know this already,” Ms. Lola said, hanging up the ensemble, for Flora to try on, “but she’s not exactly doing all this for a booty call, or whatever the kids are calling it now. She’s got it bad.” “I know,” Flora said, “I just thought it would take longer for her to admit it. She’s being very normal about all this. I’ve never seen this side of her.”

“She is such a hopeless romantic, deep in her heart,” Ms. Lola said, “she just has a shark for a brain, and she’s got a very hungry bunny and a pound and a half of swinging horse between her legs. She saves up all her good decisions for the office.” “She makes some interesting decisions at the office too,” Flora chuckled.

“You didn’t,” Ms. Lola stage whispered, her smoky voice thick with craving for gossip. “I mean, I know she does that sort of thing, but you don’t seem like the type. Good for you, babe.” Ms. Lola stepped away for a second, coming back with a lacy bra so pale pink it was almost white, a tiny but prominent bow between the cups. “I know this probably isn’t your style either,” Ms. Lola said, “but it’s all I have right now. Most of the woman I deal with are older, and they’re either, no offense, a bit top-heavier, or they make it happen with saline and a scalpel.” Flora was in much better sync with Ms. Lola’s movements as she laid the bra on her this time, and when she had finished with the hooks, Flora immediately felt the difference. “It does fit better,” she said, “and it looks…”

“They look the way they’re supposed to look,” Ms. Lola said, “if your nipples got hard enough people would think you’re not even wearing one. You need to appreciate having those things practically sitting on your shoulders while you can, even a petite thing like you is going to learn about gravity one day. My bras are made out of the same stuff as the Saturn V, I think.”

“They definitely have a rocket quality,” Flora said before she could stop herself. “I saw you looking,” Ms. Lola purred, “I might be cracking jokes, but confidentially, the offer still stands.” “I’m, uh,” Flora stammered, “I’m still sort of a one-woman gal, sorry.” “If I may continue to rudely interfere,” Ms. Lola said, “we both know Beatrix Buck isn’t, and I’m sure you’re fine with that, but between us and the plastic orchid on my desk, the lady actually likes her girls to get around. You didn’t hear it from me, naturally.”

“Really,” Flora said. “She likes pillow talk, and I don’t mean just about how much of a stallion-slash-fertility-goddess she is,” Ms. Lola said, “nothing drives her nuts like hearing what bawdy antics you’ve been getting up to. Real _Fanny Hill_ stuff. Actually, you ever read _Justine?_ ” “ _Eugh_. I have actually,” Flora winced. “Well, maybe not that exactly,” Ms. Lola said, “but saucy. She likes that. You could talk about your exes, but, uhh, no offense again, you don’t seem like your little black book exactly reads like _The Story of O_.”

“Be honest,” Flora said, “are you just saying this to get me into bed?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ms. Lola said, “I just have the couch in the front.” She capped this with another snorting cackle, easily amused by her own Vaudeville wit.

“You are good with all this, right?” Ms. Lola asked more sincerely. “Bea Buck doesn’t exactly take to monogamy the way a swan takes to water…or to monogamy, I guess, I think swans actually do mate for life.” “We’ve been seeing each other for a week,” Flora said, “I’m not asking for wedding bells.” “That’s a little concerning,” Ms. Lola said, “you sound like you think you’re in the not-going-steady-yet period and one day she’s going to settle on a one-and-only. That’s not what she does, sweetie. This is how she does it. She is quite large, and she definitely contains multitudes, or at least they try to contain her.”

“No, I get it,” Flora said as Ms. Lola slipped the blouse onto her shoulders. “I’m just willing to take as much of Bea as I can get. I know she’s always been like that, and I don’t expect that to change.”

“Hoo boy,” Ms. Lola sighed, “that’s another red flag. It’s like a Soviet embassy in here. You’re taking what you can get? Oh, sweetie, you really don’t see this as a relationship, do you? You feel like she’s out of your league, like she’s doing you a favor, and if you don’t deserve her, then you can’t ask her to actually treat you right. You’d let her walk all over you just so you could try to have a conversation with the soles of her shoes. I get it, she’s sort of unreal. She’s too perfect, isn’t she? But she really likes you. And if she didn’t, she definitely wouldn’t be worth giving up on yourself like that. It’s perfectly fine to want her all to yourself, and it’s fine for you two to spread it around like hot butter, but you have to want the same things from this.”

“If I can’t handle this, we’ll talk about it. I’ll be honest with her,” Flora said. “That’s good,” Ms. Lola said, “but what’s better is figuring it out right now. Give yourself some time to think about it. Personally, I think you two are probably adorable together, and you seem to be swimming pretty well for somebody who just got pushed in the deep end when she’s hardly seen water in a Dixie cup before. Again, no offense. I think you should find somebody to have a little sleepover with while mommy is away on business, because if you keep your head on straight you’ll realize you can have all of somebody and still have all of somebody else. It’s not 50/50. Or you can have all of Bea, and just the fun parts of a couple other girls. If one of them happens to be a bosomy old broad you like to bend over her sewing machine, that’s fine too.”

“I actually do find you quite sexy,” Flora said graciously, “but you’ve given me a lot to think about, and maybe one day I’ll get back to you.” “She tortures me, this woman,” Ms. Lola said, “you could have at least let me believe I’m just repulsive instead of dangling it in front of me like that. I’m gonna have to buy my washing machine a fur coat after the workout I give it tonight.” “Then she’ll get jealous every time you take the coat to the dry cleaners,” Flora said. Ms. Lola let out another howling, nasal laugh. “I like this one,” Ms. Lola said, “you’re not just a tight butt and a hair-trigger pecker. You’ve got some spunk in you, and you’d do well to remember not all of it came out of Bea’s queen-size plums.” “What decade are you from, exactly?” Flora said through half a laugh. “Oh, I’m a good deal older than I look,” Ms. Lola said, “at least I desperately hope I am.”

Flora had been fully encased in her new workplace finery. She saw herself in the mirror, surprised by how comfortable she felt in even this unaltered outfit, and certainly by how comfortable she looked. She had quietly dreaded Bea trying to turn her into a clone of herself, but she looked nothing like Bea. She looked, she thought, more like who she wanted to be, in fact. It wasn’t a look that projected power as much as dignity. It made her look devoted, capable, all the things she didn’t have to pretend to be. “It will look even better once I make some adjustments,” Ms. Lola said. “I really like it,” Flora said.

Ms. Lola tried to get control of herself by letting Flora mostly change back into her own clothes with little “assistance,” though this remove did give her, if anything, an even better vantage point from which to leer and gaze. “So how much is all of this actually going to cost our mutual friend?” Flora asked. Ms. Lola’s laugh this time was not a hyena bray as much as a knowing smolder. “If you don’t care, then don’t worry about it,” she said. “If you do care, then you really don’t want to know. But the $40 bra, I must reiterate, is on the house, if that makes you feel any better.” “Forty dollars?” Flora asked. “Wow,” Ms. Lola said, “that was really not the part I expected you to react to, but yes, you do know that’s not actually a lot for a bra, right?” “It is where I shop,” Flora said, and Ms. Lola took a deep breath. “Everything will be ready Monday morning,” she changed the subject, giving Flora a condescending you-sweet-thing grin that put her in mind of Andie and the apparent scandal and shame of cumin.

“Here’s my card,” Ms. Lola said as Flora went to leave. “Well, if I come here again after I pick this order up, I’m guessing Bea will be the one who arranges it,” Flora said, “I’m not going to be dropping this kind of money myself any time soon.” “Yes,” Ms. Lola said in a chipper but direct tone, “which means me handing you a card with my phone number on it pretty clearly means something else entirely, doesn’t it?” Ms. Lola Goldman blew her a kiss on the way out. “Tell Beatrix I said hello, and ‘five and three-quarter inches.’ She’ll know what that means.” “I’m pretty sure I do too,” Flora said, “see you Monday.”

When Flora returned, Bea was still absent, though without Bea’s car in the driveway, she suddenly noticed the presence of a third car that had been there the previous night. It was possible Bea owned more than one car, but the twelve-year-old Halloween-orange Civic was hardly broadcasting luxury. Flora used the key she had long since been given for business reasons to let herself in, and found Andie lounging on the living room couch, wearing only a thin white t-shirt with the cover of _Surfer Rosa_ on it and scant black panties. “Hey,” she said casually, popping a sweet chili Dorito in her mouth. On the TV was a flashing sequence of cheesy sci-fi imagery, including lingering shots of bare breasts. “There were a lot more artsy montages in cheesy sci-fi movies in the 70s and 80s than you’d think,” Andie said. “So…what’s up?” Flora tried to ask politely.

“ _Forbidden World_ ,” Andie said. “Amazon actually has a great selection of weird shit on streaming. I just watched _Class of Nuke ‘Em High_ for like the twentieth time. It’s a great dumb movie, and the teacher who hooks up with the gang leader is only in like three scenes but she makes me absolutely cream my Hanes.”

“Do you…live here?” Flora asked, no longer worried she sounded hostile amid the much greater volume of legitimate confusion. Apparently she was wrong, because Andie’s expression changed dramatically. “I’m making dinner again tonight,” she said, “no need to piss your grey-brown Fashion Bug slacks. I just don’t really need to do a whole lot for a while, and I was in the area. I live pretty far away, so I chill here in the mean time when it’s convenient. I’m not sneaking in the backdoor like the milk lady to borrow a cup of dick from your blushing bride.”

“Well that’s a bit of a leap,” Flora said, “I was just confused.” “Is it though?” Andie asked, “She outright told you we used to bone.” Affecting a familiar stoner voice, Andie added, “ _We still do, but we used to, too._ ” “I wouldn’t have been mad if you were,” Flora said, “and I’m sure every so often she’s still going to put you over your cutting board and stuff her favorite turkey, I just want to know what’s what.”

“First of all,” Andie said, “I do not cook stuffing inside the fucking turkey, and I also do not catch dick while I’m working, not even from the client. I am a professional.” Andie pointedly sucked some Dorito dust from her fingers before picking up the remote to pause the movie. “But you also need to figure out your own shit, with all due respect, before you start questioning mine. You seem a little touchy about Buck’s open-season policy on the women in this town. I saw your face last night, when she made that crack about her dick. And more importantly, I saw what you made your face do when she looked back to you. I really don’t want you two to hurt each other, alright? You’re good for each other. She’s really happy and grounded when she’s gaga over somebody like this, and you obviously need somebody who makes you feel even a little bit more confident. You look up at her like she’s the Monolith from _2001_. You’re the ape who learns how to murder somebody with a bone, in this scenario.”

“God, yes, I get it,” Flora said, sitting on the six inches of couch Andie wasn’t sprawled across. “I just got this ‘grow some balls’ speech from her fucking tailor. Is there a single woman in this city who doesn’t think she knows Bea better than I do?” Andie laughed. “She sent you to Ms. Lola Goldman already?” she said. “She’s fun, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s tons of fun,” Flora said, “or at least two gallon jugs.” Flora pulled her shirt tight, looking down at her chest, then looked at Andie’s toned legs and slender frame. “Boy, the two of us and Ms. Lola,” Flora said, “she doesn’t exactly have a type, does she?” “She likes older ladies thick,” Andie said, “and she likes us ingénue types short and petite. You can psychoanalyze that yourself, that’s a fascinating barrel of snakes.”

“How long have you two actually been a thing?” Andie asked. “I’ve known her for almost four years,” Flora said. “I was working at the head office before I was her assistant. But we never had anything going on like that until last week.” Flora had yet to hear Andie silent for this long. “Wow,” she eventually said, “she usually doesn’t get like this that fast.” “Get like what?” Flora asked. “It sounds like you’ve had enough probing questions for one day,” Andie said, “I’ll let Bea give you the rest of your probing when she gets home. What do you want for dinner? I’m going to do the big shop soon.”

“God,” Flora said, “that question scares me so much more.” “I’m seriously not judging you,” Andie said, “you’re not the only girl our age who’s never lived off anything but Wendy’s and frozen pizza. Our entire generation was raised to never grow up so we’d never ask for decent pay or dental. I literally don’t know how to change a tire.” “Are…we the same age?” Flora asked. “How old do you think I am?” Andie asked. “Either twenty or forty, I have no fucking idea,” Flora said, “you have this scary librarian vibe like you’re about to hit my knuckles with a ruler, but you also look like you’ve never worked a day in your life. But, like, in a sexy way, I guess, I didn’t mean that to sound insulting.”

“It doesn’t,” Andie said, “you seem to have a thing for terrifying reform school librarians who’ve never had a real job.” Andie grazed her foot against Flora’s shoulder in a way she could justify as a joke if her flirtation was unwelcome. “Buck has bigger tits, though. I bet you had fun with Auntie Lola.” “I tried on some clothes, she slipped me her number, and I left with my throbbing boner unsullied, thank you very much,” Flora said. “Beatrix will be disappointed you didn’t at least come home with a bright red lipstick ring around it,” Andie said. “So what do you fucking want for dinner?”

“If you expect me to believe you’re not judging my chicken-nuggets-and-Kraft-macaroni palate, then you have to believe me when I say I honestly don’t care,” Flora said, “you know this shit a lot better than I do.” “There’s nothing in the whole world you like more than anything else?” Andie pried. “My moms could cook,” Flora said, “one of them is Venezuelan, or her family was at least, and when she did her grilled chicken, and just some rice, black beans, the whole deal, it was so simple, but it was great. I’ve never really cared about anything more complicated than that.”

“I can do simple and good,” Andie said, “I could make what I made last night in my sleep. Was that good?” “That was pretty great,” Flora said. “I’m absolutely going to make you come insane Clinton Street molecular shit one of these days, or some fucking sea urchin and squid ink soufflé, but yes, for tonight, I can do simple home cooking, for you. Consider it your one-week anniversary present.”

Andie sprung off the couch, and headed toward the staircase. “I’m going to head upstairs and get dressed, unless you want to watch,” Andie said, “then I’m heading to the store.” She lingered on the second step, then turned back toward Flora. “It’s normal for you to feel weird about shit. The private chef, the house, and the relationship shit. It’s been four years, but it’s really been a week. If she needs time, she will take time, and you should do the same thing. And if you want to get even in the sex book, you could just throw me one whenever I’m around.” “You’re absolutely hilarious,” Flora said, “go buy your sea urchin and your liquid nitrogen.” “It’s so sad that you think I’m kidding,” Andie said, “even Ms. Lola Goldman and I don’t fuck just anybody, and we aren’t flirting with you because you smell like Buck’s jizz. You’re cute as shit.”

Once Andie was out of the house, Bea went up to the bedroom. After idly fucking around on her phone for a while lying in the bed, she got curious. A peek through Bea’s dressers yielded a great volume of fairly uniform work clothes, a sea of button-up blouses and dark-colored skirts that Flora had each seen hundreds of times. In her vast clothes closet, it was more of the same on one side, her razor-sharp blazers taking up their own rack, but her other attire was a mix of the expected classy formal apparel and some bold items she couldn’t picture Bea wearing, nor imagine where she would wear them to. Even in more casual settings, Bea had a habit of dressing more than her age, but her closet looked like the dressing room of an overpriced strip club on one side and an FBI agent’s on the other. On a few of them, Flora couldn’t discern which side was the front and which was the back, both sides having gaps that would logically expose some things that defeat the purpose of wearing clothing at all.

Visions of hoochie-mama Beatrix Buck slipping into a slutty club dress instead of her flattering but solemn executive vestments like an Amish girl on Rumspringa danced in Flora’s head. Stepping out of the closet, she went back over to the dresser containing Bea’s more intimate items. Despite having had Bea’s cleavage slid onto her dick like a condom in the woman’s office during work hours, Flora felt a little perverse pulling one of her bras out to fondle furtively. Holding it against her own body let her feel the size of Bea’s breasts from another perspective, and she found it quite exciting. She wasn’t imagining herself looking like that, or imagining herself as Bea, but it gave her a new appreciation for Bea’s outrageous curves.

Flora put it back carefully, as if Bea would be furious if she found evidence Flora might have touched her belongings. For all Flora knew, Bea was planning on stuffing that bra in Flora’s mouth later. Flora got a little bolder, by her arbitrary standards, pulling a pair of Bea’s panties out of another drawer. Flora was already in her bra and panties to lounge around, and she quickly slipped her own panties off to try on Bea’s. She didn’t question why she also took her bra off to do this, perhaps enjoying this a little more than she admitted. The panties barely stayed on, they were so large on her comparatively slender hips and much smaller butt. Slipping them back off quickly, she found herself holding them in her hands, and couldn’t stop herself from taking a sniff. Not much of Bea’s smell lingered, but the act alone gave her a little rush.

Flora could no longer ignore her arousal, her dick standing at full attention. Flora sat at the edge of the bed, clutching Bea’s panties, and began to stroke herself with them. Bea’s panties were made out of something much softer than the t-shirt grade cotton of her own usual undergarments, and the sensation was nice even without the thrill of an act the fairly tame Flora found slightly depraved, even doing it with the intimates of a woman who’d been balls-deep in her ass in that very bed less than twenty hours ago. She imagined Bea standing over her. Flora was kneeling, Bea wearing her bra, her pantyhose, her glasses, and nothing else, as Ms. Buck placed her foot on Flora’s shoulder. With all the realm of sexual fantasy at her disposal, Flora’s mind leapt to a scenario where she was still simply masturbating, just with Bea’s foot laying against her shoulder as she stood imperiously over her, not even nude, gazing down with a look of arch disdain masking deep fondness just beneath. What could be better than kneeling at Beatrix Buck’s feet, nylon-clad leg laid over you, while you tug on your pathetic cock for her, waiting for the moment she gives you permission to cum? Bea’s imaginary foot nuzzled the side of Flora’s face, and Flora could no longer stand this being fantasy.

Flora replaced the panties, opening another drawer and finding Bea’s pantyhose. Flora imagined the scent of her lover, and was struck before she could grab a pair with a better idea. Bea had a maid who visited once or twice a week, and her dirty clothes hamper only had two days or so worth of in addition to the crotchless pair from last night, there was another ordinary pair at the bottom. Flora, still feeling a little bit naughty doing all this, had by now punched her rock-hard cock straight through those reservations, and seized the stockings, bringing them to her face for a long draw of that residual aroma in its second purest form. She sat back on the bed, putting her arm through one of the legs until her hand filled roughly the foot area. Rubbing it over herself was stimulating, but when she went for the main event, she found that while the slightly rough, slightly smooth texture of the fabric was divine anywhere else, rubbing her much more sensitive dick with it with anything but the lightest touch was like sandpaper. She gently caressed her balls and the area around the focal point, from her inner thighs to her pubis to her lower stomach, and a little around her face and neck, but this wasn’t as useful for the act itself as she had doubted, but still hoped.

Flora put the item back, but also took a pair of panties from the hamper along the way, setting them aside for possible use later. For now, she’d decided to finally brave the closet that did not have clothes in it.

As expected, this closet was a sexual arsenal, but not quite the garden of earthly delights she expected. When Beatrix’ tastes became apparent, she pictured ball gags, nipple clamps, whips, chains, ropes, Margot Verger’s cattle prod perhaps, but this seemed almost tame in comparison. She had already seen the blindfold, and was unsurprised by the spreader bar, a single pair of handcuffs (lined with a soft material for comfort, but not with bachelorette-party pink fur), and a litany of more overtly sexual devices, but was a little puzzled by the lack of much else. There were dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, including prostate-teasing ones like the one she’d already encountered, in addition to larger ones. She had the requisite overpowered vibrator wand, a penis pump, an assortment of cock rings, a strap-on harness, a “strapless” dildo, one of those “new” clit-sucking stimulators Flora had only recently heard about, a couple masturbator sleeves for penile use, and the Sybian standard to all discerning perverts. She expected to be a little overwhelmed by Bea’s kinky side, but this closet painted the picture of a woman who is mildly kinky, but unfathomably horny. Flora still worried about her ability to keep up, but in a very different way, especially with the almost comical size of a few, but not many, of the items on offer.

She was also relieved, though, having put out of mind for now the idea that Ms. Buck had any inclinations that would be past some line for her. But on the third hand, she was perhaps disappointed. She expected Bea to be her portal into a world that, unbeknownst to Flora, she seemed to want to explore. Even if she was enough for Bea, there could be ways in which Bea failed to keep up with her. What happens, she asked herself, when Bea has lain bare all her perversions, and I ask what’s next?

These thoughts still engendered in her a craving, though, for the Beatrix Buck treatment, but she still had no Beatrix Buck. Wandering back to the marital armory, she had become resolute in her conviction that if she didn’t have a domme, she would enslave and debase herself. She grabbed the blindfold from the closet and rooted around for something she’d like to try for her more direct stimulation. She found a perfectly curved vibrating wand probably intended for g-spot stimulation, but that would give her all the prostate stimulation she’d need to get off while denying herself the one thing she wanted to do the most.

Lying in the bed, Flora took a sniff of the used panties before wadding them up and shoving them in her mouth. She put on her blindfold, opened her legs, and slid the lubed toy inside herself, clicking the control knob twice. Not having done this herself before, it took an amount of time to find her prostate that Flora was sure was embarrassing, but told herself if she had to do it in front of Bea, she’d have gotten that humiliating rookie move out of the way for good. Flora was as hard as she’d ever been, but staunchly refused to violate her plan and let herself touch it at all. All she did was work the wand, finding the right motion to ensure she could get all the way there without any “hands-on” work. Once she had the rhythm and the angle of attack, she clicked the wand’s knob again, then once more a few seconds later, landing on the highest setting, which was considerable. She’d been right to work up to it.

Flora was tempted to imagine Ms. Buck holding her down and fucking her. Flora was a perfectionist, though. If she wanted to be roughly fucked, she’d have found a dildo Bea’s size and used that. She fantasized about Bea fingering her, allowing her to match the scenario perfectly to the precisely targeted pressure she was exerting on only her most vulnerable point. Flora had long ago noticed that long, pointed nails were the one thing missing from Beatrix Buck’s perfect queen MILF look, and even before she knew the depths of Bea’s desires she had figured there was a prurient motivation behind her neatly trimmed nails. She could hear Ms. Buck talking her through it, tender in the way she encouraged her to cum, but stern in the way she kept demanding Flora not touch her cock, even as Flora begged Bea, and by proxy herself, to let her do what she knew would end this torture immediately. Once Flora had gotten herself most of the way there, that last little bit seemed to take forever, but she was determined. It had worked too well when she had the plug inside her, being pushed over the edge not by penis stimulation but by sucking Bea’s magnificent breast, then surely she could do it now.

In spite of the simulated nature of all this “control,” though, Flora was enjoying herself immensely. It really was working. After all, even with Beatrix doing it for real, the control was still an illusion. Either of them could stop it at any time, and if there were something Flora wanted enough to ask for it, Bea would no doubt give it to her once the power play had been dropped. Flora noticed something about the thrill she was getting from this, though. The manufactured feeling of being dominated and degraded was certainly pleasant, but Flora felt like there was another component here. Her heart had started racing not when she began enacting her plan, but when she began conceiving it. The idea of letting her mind run wild and subjecting herself to whatever depraved thing she could think of was exhilarating itself.

Flora was loving being her own submissive, but she couldn’t help but feel a hell of a rush from being her own dominatrix.

Flora took this as incentive to get a little mean. Flora noticed she had almost subconsciously been avoiding certain motions, avoiding applying a certain amount of pressure to a certain area. It was simply too much, and every time she neared it, she reflexively pulled back. “Make this little bitch scream,” she thought to herself, and plunged her toy right where it felt so intense it almost hurt. Even with the makeshift gag in her mouth, she could hear herself howl like she’d been stabbed. Stabbing was all around the right image for it, actually, as she was jamming that instrument into her tenderest of the tender pretty hard. With no dick play whatsoever, though, it was just what she needed. The reaction would have been instant, except she noticed herself holding back again. When she really went for it, she felt the orgasm building, and was actually trying to hold back not her assault on the spot, but the resulting climax. The feeling she was subjecting herself to was far too much for her to handle, but here she was, trying to make it last as long as she could before she escaped her torture and got her reward. She was quite a skilled domme, evidently, and no less gifted a sub. She made herself really work for it.

When Flora had a prostate orgasm, she wouldn’t describe it as more intense. It was more that a penile orgasm felt concentrated in one place, where a prostate orgasm she felt through her entire body. She imagined from the descriptions she’d heard that it was much more like a vaginal orgasm than the ones she usually had. She felt every muscle she had suddenly tense, then release. It was better, but only in the way snorting coke was better than drinking coffee. She wasn’t sure she could do this every morning before she left for work, it would be exhausting and eventually kill her.

Once Flora had regained her basic faculties, she cleaned herself off, washed the vibrator, left it on the edge of the sink to dry, and put everything else back in its proper place, but couldn’t resist conspicuously leaving the panties on the lip of the hamper, rather than tucked inside it, wondering if Bea would notice. Satisfied, if not drained, Flora lay back in bed, telling herself she was going to catch her breath after that beautiful ordeal, and quickly slipped away to sleep.

Flora was stirred awake by the feeling of the bed shifting under her. She felt a hand gently rub her stomach, and a few gentle kisses on her shoulder. “I hope you’re Bea,” Flora groaned, “because if you’re Andie you have five seconds to stop grinding against my ass.” “So if she wanted to hump you for four seconds, you’d just let her?” Bea said. “That’s the five-second rule,” Flora said. “Well, this is Ms. Lola Goldman,” Bea said in a voice that was clearly just a Marilyn Monroe impression, despite a lack of any discernible similarity, “I came to drop off your new clothes, but I think you look a whole lot better in nothin’ at all.” “Unless Anna Nicole Smith faked her death, gained all her weight back and kept going, and came here under witness protection to set up shop as a tailor,” Flora said, “that doesn’t sound anything like anything Ms. Lola Goldman would ever say, or the way she would say it.” “Oh, because you know her better than I do,” Bea laughed. “I’m sure she would do a very sexy ‘Happy Birthday, Madame President,’ but yeah, I’m standing by that one,” Flora said, grabbing Bea’s hand and holding it in hers.

“I see you had a little hand party in my bed,” Bea said. “Nobody has ever called it that,” Flora said, “and actually, I didn’t use my hands at all, at least not like that.” “What did you do then?” Bea asked, voice laden with rapt curiosity. “That g-spot wand drying off on the bathroom counter?” Flora said, “It got me there hands-free.” “That’s not easy for some women,” Bea said, “although you proved you were capable of that last night.” “I had your tit in my mouth last night,” Flora said, “I could probably lift a car with your tit in my mouth.” “So what was your secret this time?” Bea asked.

“I gave myself the full Flora Entrada experience,” Flora said proudly. “I blindfolded myself and stuffed a pair of your panties in my mouth, and I made myself get off without touching my cock at all. I imagined you fingering me off, and that was all I needed.” “I do hope you swiped a pair from the hamper,” Ms. Buck said in her cruel seductress voice, “and didn’t wimp out and snatch some clean ones from the dresser.” “Never,” Flora said, “I’d be surprised if I can even blow a load anymore without your taste in my mouth. You broke me.”

“Well,” Bea said, “you’ve done very well today. I’m proud of my little one-woman sex dungeon. And since you’ve already had one, I think I owe you an orgasm.” Flora turned around to see Bea standing next to the bed, removing her skirt. “Don’t give me any help,” Bea said, “fair is fair. Just sit there looking pretty.” She pulled her pantyhose down, then pulled her panties to the side, freeing her already halfway awoken beast. Flora scooted around so she was directly underneath Bea, who even stepped closer and put one knee back on the bed to allow her to get in place. Bea’s musk after hours trapped in her pantyhose was almost enough to get Flora ready for a second round, even after her absolutely ravaging bust.

Bea, as Flora suspected, was just large enough that she made use of both hands, one gripping the base, one working the rest. Bea actually had a great fondness for pressure at her very base, finding the impact of her hand against the bottom often more stimulating than the stroke against the tip at the other end, which was nominally more sensitive. As Bea worked, consequently, she went from her right hand simply grasping the base to both hands fully stroking, meeting in the middle only to return to their respective poles. Flora wondered to herself whether it was easier to stimulate one this size, which created more places to apply pleasure, or more difficult, as all those points wanted attention and it took more time to reach all of them. In either case, Bea’s masterful manipulation was rendering the point moot. As badly as Bea obviously wanted to cum, Flora still noticed her slowing down or easing up every so often, seemingly trying to make this bliss last just a bit longer.

“Open,” Bea said curtly, reassuring Flora that, on some level, the icy mistress was the “real” Beatrix Buck, which came out when she was in a truly frenzied state, not a façade she put on that required effort to maintain. Flora knew she secretly wanted this to be the case, and maybe not even secretly, to either woman. Bea tilted her dick downward, almost letting her tip brush Flora’s lips, but not quite. “Tell me you want it,” Bea said, and this time her voice carried a tone less demanding and more pleading. Flora saw an opportunity, and she seized it with alacrity.

“You have permission to cum now, Beatrix,” Flora said with almost malicious severity.

The girlish yelp Bea had let out at the critical moment last night was not what Flora heard this time. That was a momentary thinning of her composure. This was a loss of control. Bea nearly whimpered, the staccato groans syncopating her breaths having the nasal whine of an outright sob. She sounded like what was leaving her cock was her soul. If Flora had been broken by Bea’s delightful predation, as she said, then Bea had at least been compromised.

In a position less suited to the task, Flora would not have been able to contain the flood she had helped unleash on herself. Perfectly poised as she was, though, almost all of Bea’s burden was loosed into Flora’s waiting mouth. Flora had very little work to do scraping the rest into its destination from around the sides with a single dainty finger. Less trivial was the next task she set for herself, in which she tried to gulp down the entire issue in one helping. Almost gagging, she resigned herself to downing most of it, then giving herself a second before attempting the rest. She still proudly opened wide immediately after, demonstrating her achievement to a proud Bea.

“You’re never going to let me live this down,” Bea said, “but that was so fucking hot.”

“I think half a ball came out in my mouth,” Flora said without the reverent awe she was getting from Bea, “I almost fucking choked on that one. Was this endless meeting a cover story for some kind of six-hour edging party you didn’t invite me to? Fucking hell.” Bea fell into the bed beside Flora, laughing like old friends, sitting together for a moment basking in the sweet post-orgasmic blankness of their minds.

During all this, Andie had been in the kitchen putting an amount of effort into dinner that she considered a solid day’s work and Flora would have been horrified to watch being done on her account. Bea and Flora had gotten casually dressed, Flora in a t-shirt Bea had sitting around from when she was younger and thinner with panties and no bra. Bea was wearing a gorgeous dress, including gratuitous pantyhose solely for Flora’s sake, but, you know, in a casual way. Her idea of sloppy homebody clothes was not like our Earth ideas. Bea and Flora were both aware of the discrepancy in their attire, and got more than a little kick out of it. The idea of being a beautiful rich woman’s hot younger piece of ass was a challenging feeling for Flora when she couldn’t get out of her rational brain, but a little arousing in a purely sexual way, and nobody but Andie was going to see them. They were cuddling on the couch when she called them to the dining room, about to bring out the food. Andie had alluded to obliging Flora’s tastes earlier, but Flora was still surprised when she saw Andie’s highly direct approach. Grilled chicken, roast pork, beans, rice, platanos maduros, yucca with mojo. Andie laid out everything Flora’s mother used to make, and it looked absolutely perfect. The smell alone made Flora drift back home, not having had this sort of feast more than once or twice a year in ages.

“Don’t say I never did you any favors,” Andie said, “I haven’t made some of this since culinary school but my pork once made my Cuban ex’s abuelita nearly weep.”

“You…” Flora started, quickly realizing she didn’t need to remind Andie that she didn’t need to do all this. Andie was deliberately sending a message at this point. “Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it, it looks great.” Flora couldn’t help herself, though. “This is…a lot of food.”

“The big secret of my job is that most rich people actually aren’t too good to eat leftovers for the next three days when the food is this great,” Andie said, answering Flora’s implicit question not just with her response but by sitting down at a third place setting Flora hadn’t noticed was there. Flora had felt a little awkward the previous night sitting there eating while a third person worked away cleaning up the kitchen, wondering when Andie herself had eaten dinner. This still took her by surprise.

“So,” Andie said, making herself well at home not just at the table but in the conversation, “Bea, you’ve been home almost every night for the past two weeks.” “I guess I have,” Bea said, wondering where this was going. “Well, it didn’t take me much math to figure out that you two first hit it off, and you hit it pretty hard from the looks of things, a little over a week ago,” Andie said, casually dumping a hefty mound of rice on her plate, “which means you guys fucked in the office in the middle of the work day, right?”

Bea chuckled quietly, taking a sip of water but seeming relatively unfazed. Flora hardly reacted at all, but only because she was sort of frozen. Flora had let some saucy gossip slip with Ms. Lola Goldman, but she seemed to positively thrill over the details of their relationship. Andie was no more a stranger, really, but she certainly felt like one.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about here,” Andie noted, seeing Flora’s panicked stare. “I know how Bea operates. Of course,” she continued in her slow, sardonic purr, “I would never do such a thing myself, because the kitchen is a sacred place, and I am a professional.” Having topped her rice with a sloppy heap of black beans, she licked the serving spoon while making direct eye contact with the still slightly stunned Flora, then placed it back in the bowl.

“I happened to think it was sort of sweet,” Flora said, “we just couldn’t help ourselves.” “I’m sure it’s exciting,” Andie teased in a more sultry variety of her finely-honed bitch voice, “being surrounded by all those people who have no idea what you’re doing. Feeling a little exposed, but also like you have this well-kept secret all to yourself, all at the same time. I know Bea likes it.”

“I haven’t exactly been tearing my way through the office,” Bea said. “That’s not what you told me,” Andie replied. “I said I did it occasionally,” Bea corrected, “but I didn’t say it was with that many women. I just had a couple extended flings that, mostly, took place across my surprisingly comfortable desk.”

“She fucked me in there once,” Andie said, turned toward Flora. “I’d been catering an office party. We waited until everybody had gone home and I was cleaning up, though.” Andie let a pregnant pause hang while she wound up the pitch. “Professional,” she said, and Flora felt a foot brush purposefully against her inner thigh.

Flora didn’t feel like giving Andie the power in this exchange, and slipped her own foot directly into Andie’s crotch, creeping up along her thigh along the way. “Her last assistant was a serious fuck buddy for a while,” Andie said, lowering her hand beneath the table to position Flora’s foot directly on her crotch, Flora’s heel pressing straight on her clit. “Lily?” Flora asked. “I remember her. She was pretty, but I had no idea.”

“We were never serious, not any way but physically,” Bea said. “Who else?” Flora said, with more curiosity than jealousy. Her foot was bent back too far for her to have much wiggle room, but pressing gently forward at a regular interval allowed for some indirect stimulation, and every time it moved back Andie’s clit fell back onto her heel, giving her a little control over the proceedings while Andie rolled her hips a little to grind herself against Flora’s foot with more precision.

“Do you really want to know?” Bea asked, “I don’t want to make this weird.” “It’s not,” Flora asked, “tell me.”

“Well you don’t know Sandra,” Bea said, “she left before you started.” Flora began wiggling her foot side to side, eventually finding a specific motion that cause Andie’s thighs to tense up. “Just tell her about Vera already,” Andie said, hiding her stimulated state pretty well with her low, monotone voice. “Vera?” Flora laughed. “Oh my God, really?”

“She’s actually very smart,” Bea said, “she’s just a little weird.” It was true that Vera, despite being eccentric in a way that shared a long, convoluted border with ditzy, was a skilled worker, and a dutiful employee. She was head of ad buys in the marketing department, and was a little new-agey for somebody with such a stereotypically dull job, sort of like finding out your tax attorney was a Satanist. “I know, I know,” Flora said, “but…what did you talk about? Sorry, that’s mean. I shouldn’t be like that, she’s very nice.”

Bea looked straight ahead, past Flora and Andie, and a smile crept over her slowly. “Before the second time we hooked up,” Bea said, “she made me let her give me a tarot reading.” Flora laughed, and Andie tried to stifle both her amusement and her growing arousal. “She didn’t let me cum that time,” Bea said, turning a little pink in the cheeks, “because she said it would build up ‘sexual energy’ that would give me more focus the rest of the day, and the orgasm would be more intense the next time. We fucked for almost an hour, and I wanted to die.” Andie was pursing her lips, but couldn’t contain her slight snort. “I had to absolutely beg her to give me a blowjob in my car after work because my balls felt like they were about to explode,” Bea said, “and after about ten seconds she pulled up to say something and I popped a load that looked like a full bottle of white glue all over her hair.”

Bea was tittering herself, but was beet red. Andie was now distracted enough by the feeling between her legs that she could hold back her laughter, but Flora, guilty as she felt, couldn’t help it. “She was so cute,” Bea pleaded, “I don’t just mean physically, she had that bubbly personality, but sort of quiet and mellow at the same time. Once we started I could barely keep my hands off her, we only cut it off because she started seeing somebody.”

“I’m sorry,” Flora said, “I just can’t picture you two together.” “I know,” Bea said, “it’s fine, I get it. My dick had led me to some strange places over the years, I make no apologies for that whatsoever, but I’m not exactly proud of it either. Not to speak ill of Vera, I like Vera.” Bea, Flora and Andie were all quiet for a second, Bea deflating a bit, feeling that she failed to be as good a sport about it as she thought and made things awkward. Then Andie spoke.

“My Wiccan friend invited me to this thing in the woods tomorrow night,” Andie said in a flawless impression of Vera’s voice, having spent several nights in the company of her and Bea that Andie found far more exhausting than Bea did. “Do you guys want to come with?”

All at once, the three were absolutely shaking with laughter, which presented a unique problem. Flora’s already outstretched leg involuntarily pushed even straighter, applying much more force against Andie’s soft and sensitives. Meanwhile, Andie had shifted her own weight, putting more pressure on things from her end as well. For a few seconds, Flora was unaware what she was now doing to Andie, but Andie didn’t pull away either, instinctively rolling into the stronger sensation rather than away from it, momentarily forgetting where she was and what was happening for the sake of keeping this feeling coming.

Andie’s breathing changed from trying to collect herself from an uncontrollable fit of laughter to a very distinct pattern Bea spotted immediately. Bea inspected Andie’s face, which had a very different flavor of delight written all over it than she expected. Flora had obviously sunk into her chair a bit in such a way that she could have pulled herself back up if she could. Bea kicked up her leg, feeling Flora’s leg running straight along the underside of the table.

“Well hello there,” Bea said with great interest, “I didn’t know third base included playing footsie under the table, but I applaud your ingenuity. This one sounds like she’s about to turn back into a pumpkin already.”

Andie slid her chair a bit away from the table. “I started it, Ms. Beatrix,” she said in a girlish squeak, “I promise I’ll be good.” “If you want to finish her off, be my guest,” Bea said to Flora. “No,” Flora said with devilish joy, “she’s had enough fun.”

Andie stood up, a little shaky in the legs, and ducked into the kitchen. “Well, in that case…” she said, then disappeared. “Don’t worry,” Bea said, “I keep a lock on the cucumbers.” Andie returned a second later with a bottle of Wild Turkey in her hand. “I’m going to go borrow something silicone-coated with a very powerful motor from the shrine of dicks in your bedroom closet,” Andie said, “and once I grind out the big fat nut you just started me on, I’m definitely not going to be able to drive home anyway, so I’m also going to drink this entire thing, probably with my mouth, and pass out in the spare bedroom. Have a blast, ladies.”

“You’re not going to put away this absurd Christmas Eve in Miami feast you spent all my money cooking us?” Bea asked. Andie was already ascending the stairs. “Do it yourself,” Andie shouted, “get little miss panty soaker to help you. I don’t fuck on the job, and she decided to mash my clit like she was stomping grapes. _Ipso facto_ , I’m not at work anymore. QED. Goodnight!”

Bea let out another laugh, and Flora was as delighted as she always was to hear Beatrix Buck laugh after knowing her serious side for so long, especially now that the topic of conversation was less of a minefield. The two put away the rest of the bountiful meal, Flora being a little relieved that Bea even knew where everything was in her own kitchen. “I do cook,” Bea said, “I just rarely feel like doing it after a whole day carrying the company on my back.” “We appreciate your help carrying our poor, lazy asses,” Flora said, “you want to carry out a trash bag of some of this year-old shit in your fridge so we have room for any of this?”

Shutting the door this time, ironically to drown out Andie’s own moans from the room down the hall, Flora and Bea finally had each other all to themselves again, quickly shedding some excess clothes. Flora lay in bed nude, Bea merely pulling off her dress to reveal a black bra, short cups revealing a good bit more flesh than Bea’s usual mid-century pin-up bullet bras, and her pantyhose, this pair crotchless for the sake of indulging Flora’s express wish for Bea to leave them on during the act. “I expect you want me to set the menu for tonight,” Ms. Buck moaned, standing near the bed while Flora reclined, trying her best to look innocent and helpless while Bea loomed over her.

“Well, I’ve seen your toybox now,” Flora said, Bea not expecting the laughing cadence in her voice when Beatrix was using her obey-me croon, “and I have questions.”

Bea sat at the edge of the bed, extending her hand outward to invite Flora’s questions. “There wasn’t anything I was confused by,” Flora said, “except some things that weren’t there.” “You were expecting whips and chains and barbed wire,” Bea said, “I can see that. I’ve never spent much time with dedicated kinksters, so I don’t know how usual or unusual my interests are.”

“When you warn me right off the bat that I might not be ready for your…interests,” Flora said, “it doesn’t make me expect a closet full of dildos and one pair of handcuffs.” “I’m not into bondage,” Bea said, “not in the way most people mean. I’m into control. If I have to tie you down to control you, then I don’t control you. And I’m not into pain, really, although I think I’d say I definitely have a sadistic side.”

“I have no idea what those two concepts mean together,” Flora said. “I want to torture you,” Beatrix said with a grin, “but I want to torture you with pleasure. I want to make you beg me to cum, or beg me to let you stop cumming. If you don’t think there’s such a thing as too much pleasure, I can show you what that means. You will be bawling on the floor, and the next night you’ll be desperate for me to do it all again, and you’ll be too scared to ask for it, all at the same time.”

“That sounds incredible,” Flora said. “We will work our way up to that,” Bea said. “I like letting you control my orgasms,” Flora said, “when I was playing around myself earlier, the first thing I went to was not letting myself jerk off. I’ve had prostate orgasms before, but when I did that before, I was beating it the whole time, and it ended up feeling like a penis orgasm but with something extra, it wasn’t pure. Having a pure prostate orgasm was completely different.”

“Imagine you had that orgasm,” Bea said, “and then you just kept going. Have you ever done something like that?” “I jerked off once ten minutes after I just finished,” Flora said, “but I’ve tried to keep going all the way through cumming, and then just not stop, and keep going again, but it doesn’t work, it’s just too much.”

“It’s too sensitive,” Bea said, “and your body is telling you to stop, you’ve already finished. It’s like looking at food when you’ve just stuffed yourself.” “You even look at the porn you were watching,” Flora laughed, “and you think, my God, I am disgusting. This is awful.”

“Would you want me to jerk you off,” Bea asked, “and just keep going until I wring another load out of you?” “I don’t know,” Flora said, “if you asked me that right now, I’d say yes, absolutely. But the moment it happens, I know I’d be begging you to stop.”

“That’s the point,” Bea said with a wicked stare. “When you say you’d be begging me to stop, what would you be saying, exactly? Would you be groaning ‘stop, stop, please, it’s too much,’” Bea said, imitating Flora in a squeaky bimbo voice that sounded nothing like her, “or would you just say ‘red’?”

“I don’t know,” Flora said, her voice lowering into a sultry tone that sounded even less like Bea’s cartoon tramp, “I hope it would be the first one, because that sounds hot. Begging you for mercy while you keep pounding away at it.”

“It is magical,” Bea said, “just make sure you never find yourself wanting to give me a safeword and holding back because you think you’re going to disappoint me. Be honest with me if it’s really too far.” “I will,” Flora said, “you know I know my limits.”

“One of my favorite things,” Bea said, “is to have a girl sit on that Sybian, and at first you slowly ramp up, it really does take practice, but once you’re at full force, you just keep her there. You cum pretty fast, but you don’t stop there. I’d love nothing more than to leave somebody sitting on that thing at full power for hours. I don’t even bother sticking around the whole time, I’d stay for half an hour maybe but eventually I’d just be checking back in every twenty or thirty minutes, maybe getting myself off in front of her once or twice while I watched her slowly lose her mind. I’ve only ever gotten forty minutes out of anybody. I’d love to see what four hours looks like. Twenty-four, even. I’d love to just turn that sex closet into a kennel for my Sybian slave, and she just sits there, and she’s built up so much of a tolerance for cumming that she has to stay on it at all times just to be able to think straight. I just bring her smoothies and let her off three times a day to use the bathroom. That’s the fantasy.”

“You’re going to have to put out a Craigslist post for that,” Flora said, still mildly awestruck by Bea’s dream and the way she got so wrapped up in telling it. “I definitely couldn’t handle that, and I’m a little claustrophobic. Which is why I’m glad you’re not anxious to tie me up, incidentally.”

“Good to know,” Bea said. “I’ll have to find more agreeable ways to degrade and abuse you.”

Flora contemplated what she might do for Bea to sate this specific craving. She thought about videos she’d watched, and greatly enjoyed, that played in similar space. She’d watched a bound girl subjected to a Hitachi wand until she was visibly shaking, skin flushed red all over and drenched in sweat. Flora had never imagined herself as a dominant any more than she had previously seen herself as a submissive, but when Flora watched the video, the vicarious thrill she got had been from the master’s point of view, not the slave’s. She knew it was too much for her. But what she had also realized later was that she couldn’t necessarily be that girl. With a dick and no vagina or vulva, Flora’s sexuality was intrinsically going to tend toward sprints over marathons. In the ordinary course of vanilla sex, this wasn’t a problem as long as she could eke out just enough time to get her partner off. In the infinite expanse of multiple orgasms that Bea clearly wanted to build a house forty miles into, Flora was at a much greater disadvantage. Her dick wasn’t the be-all-end-all of her sexual potential, but the idea of consecutive prostate orgasms sounded exhausting, and she doubted her body was even capable of that. Bea, when you saw her nude, might have seemed like a cock with tits and legs, but she still had both sets of equipment. She could ride a Sybian for three straight days if she wanted to, even if her cock tapped out after the third orgasm. For the first time, Flora wondered if she was enough for Bea simply on the basis of her anatomy.

“You couldn’t do that with my anyway, could you?” Flora said, Bea noticing that her posture had changed, her legs pulling upward a little as if to hide her crotch. “Putting a dildo attachment on and dropping your ass right on it is pretty fun, actually,” Bea said, telling the truth, but also knowing she was suddenly in tricky territory. “I’d probably blow in ten seconds,” Flora said, “that sounds pretty full-on.” “That’s the fun part,” Bea said, “when you bust in ten seconds, the next hour is pretty fucking intense.” “I wish I could be your endless orgasm girl,” Flora said, “but I don’t think I have the right tool for that. I wish I had both. You’re really lucky.”

“This ass is an extraordinary stroke of luck,” Bea said proudly, “but I don’t want to hear you get down on yourself like that. There are advantages to everything. Girls with just dicks are so much fun. Even somebody with both has their limitations. When you fuck a hermaphrodite, she always wants it in her pussy. Not to stereotype, but generally, that’s the game. A lot of the time, they want both, and either way, they want their dick played with, but I adore prostate play. When they have both, they just spend the whole time wondering why I can’t be doing that to their g-spot. They don’t tremble the same way, either. Even when they cum with their prostate, they look like they’re having a vaginal orgasm. A girl like you, when you cum that way, there’s this beautiful vulnerability, like you feel like you’re not supposed to be doing it, but you want it so badly you don’t care that it feels wrong. A girl with a pussy doesn’t appreciate anal the same way, whether she has a dick or not. She’s used to getting penetrated, and when she does, it doesn’t have that little feeling of wrongness to it.”

Flora was starting to get that light back in her eyes again. “And as much as I liked forced orgasms,” Bea said, “I might like the opposite even more.” Bea was getting carried away again, no longer watching Flora’s face intently to make sure her attempt to assuage her concerns was taking root. Flora loved it when Beatrix got excited about something after years of stoic perfection. “Teasing and denying is such a powerful feeling, and I love that frustrated squirm, I love watching a girl try to reconcile that agony with how good it feels to stay at that highest peak of arousal for more than a second. I can do that with a girl with both, obviously, but as much fun as a pussy is for forced orgasm play, there’s nothing like a cock for teasing. Edging a twat just isn’t the same. It’s fun, but I’ve seen the way it makes you whimper and squeal with both, and a cock and balls simply cannot handle that kind of treatment. A girl with blue balls would strangle her mother with her bare hands if you told her you’d let her cum. You turn into an absolute animal. I’ve never seen anybody need anything as badly as a girl needs to cum after you edge her cock for a while. It’s a fucking opera.”

“I’ve done the edging thing before, myself,” Flora said, “it was a lot of fun.” “It is,” Bea said, “but trust me, edging yourself and being teased by somebody else are not the same. Even if you manage to really skirt the edge, and that is easier to do to yourself because you know exactly how close you are at any given moment, it’s different. That feeling of not having control over it makes it a thousand times more intense. And if you don’t think I know how to keep you there without letting you spill, trust me, I’ve become very skilled at knowing where you are.” “I’m sure that’s true,” Flora said, “but if you ever let me get there, I won’t cheat and let you get me off, I will tell you so you can keep torturing me. You know why?”

Bea grinned, knowing where this was headed. “Because I am a fucking professional,” Flora said, smacking Bea on the ass, slightly relieved despite their loving rapport that this made her belly laugh rather than earning Flora a rap on the knuckles for being insolent.

Flora, feeling sincerely less apprehensive about things, sat up and laid a hand on Bea’s thigh in a region just slightly too intimate for public affection. When Bea turned, Flora expertly milked their eye contact, holding her gaze for a few seconds that felt like minutes before giving Bea her “How can I help you, Ms. Buck?”

Bea grabbed the back of Flora’s head, pulling her in roughly for a kiss that felt less New Year’s and more like their mouths were fucking. Bea’s weight barely shifted, and a nearly limp Flora tumbled backward, bringing a ravenous Bea down with her. Bea eventually managed the feat of will required to pull herself away, and asked, “Bra on, or off?”

“How are you going to be using me this evening, Ms. Buck?” Flora responded. Bea went still, and a pleading desire came over her eyes that bordered on melancholy. “All I want in the world right now is to make love to you,” Bea says. Flora burned, deep in her heart, to beg for more, to plead to be teased and tormented until Bea couldn’t take it a second longer and held her down like a ragdoll for a back-breaking, hole-ruining act of almost hateful savagery. Those feelings were overwhelmed easily as every other ounce of body and mind that composed Flora cried out for Bea’s embrace. “I’m all yours, love,” Flora said, leaning in to kiss Bea. “Tonight is just us.”

Bea snatched a bottle of lube from the top drawer of her nightstand, and Flora gently laid her hand on Bea’s wrist. “Hold on,” Flora said, standing up. “Lie on the bed.”

Bea lay back on the bed, arm behind her head, one knee bent, seductively posed like a porn parody of a Goya nude wrapped in her crotchless nylons, black bra, retro glasses and nothing else but raw lust. Her calculated sexpot composure was not going to survive Flora’s treatment long. Lifting Bea’s balls, which made this service a lot trickier than on most of the women Flora had been with who had a vagina, she planted her face firmly in Bea’s crotch and began licking her vulva and gently sucking her clit. Bea had been pleasantly surprised by how well Flora took to her oversexed new life, but she was unprepared for her skills at oral pleasure when a foot-long slab of meat wasn’t trying to knock out her tonsils.

“Oh,” Bea said, unable to string much else together. Bea’s vagina was frequently neglected, between her selective list of partners who were worthy of penetrating her and the distraction in the way of the many who wanted to offer her the pleasure of their mouths, most of whom were focused on wrangling the challenging beast that kept her other assets well-hidden. Of course, the vast majority of them had no business trying to gulp down Bea’s cock, and would have had a much easier time lapping at her sensitive but oft-forgotten clit.

Bea’s only reprieve from this exceptional tonguing was when Flora came up for a second to say, “I want you to clamp down on me. I want you to pin me down with your thighs, squeeze them around me and don’t let me out until you cum or I run out of air and start tapping your thigh.” “I can do that,” Bea panted.

When Bea complied with Flora’s request to be smothered by the vice grip of her favorite place in the world, Flora went from diligent to feral. Flora could breathe pretty well, Bea hearing periodic gasps where Flora opened her mouth and tilted downward to pull in some less shallow breaths, but those breaks were few, Flora having to actively remind herself not to let herself suffocate devouring Bea’s dripping cunt. Gentle licks around the periphery not making Bea squirm in exactly the way Flora craved, she had started doing very little but applying vacuum force to Bea’s large but tender pearl. Flora sucked so hard the insides of her cheeks began to get sore from pushing against her teeth, but she considered this part of the job and let up not an ounce.

Bea’s pantyhosed thighs boxing her in and the joy of finally tasting her directly for the first time gave Flora nearly as much pleasure as she gave Bea. Flora began bucking her own hips wildly against the soft silk of the sheets, rubbing her erect dick like it was that and not her tongue invading Bea’s soft warmth. Flora held onto the outsides of Bea’s thighs like she was pulling them in on herself, despite the effort Bea was putting into keeping them clamped so tight on her, even through the feelings she was experiencing.

Those feelings were beginning to creep toward a terminal point, and Bea had no intention of losing her load like this, though she also refused to stop Flora while she was working away at something this divine. If nothing else, Flora would have been devastated to get into the zone like this and not get Bea off. Bea was capable of doing what she needed to do, but it required focus. As she started to feel that tickle behind her cock, she clamped her muscles down hard, allowing her to let this clitoral orgasm reverberate through her without ejaculating. This climax was a serious one, though, and she needed to keep this death grip on her pelvic floor through the whole thing. Adding to her frustration, it’s quite likely Bea would have also have let out a satisfying squirt from her vagina as well, but her “dry orgasm” technique cut that off too. If the orgasm hadn’t been so exquisite, all of this would have been a horrible waste of what could have been blissful relief, but it was worth it, and the orgasm she’d still be able to have inside Flora soon would be truly precious.

What also lasted the whole way through the orgasm was Flora’s continued service, but that did not stop when the climax did. “Flora, baby,” Bea said, “you can…”

Nothing was going to stop Flora now. This was no longer primarily about Bea. The moment she had let her thighs leave the sides of Flora’s head, Flora had grabbed them herself and put the squeeze back on. Flora continued humping the bed while trapped in the embrace of Bea’s thick nylon thighs and fragrant intimates, Bea eventually hearing short, sharp moans from between her legs as Flora found release.

Flora just barely managed to get onto her hands and knees, crawling over Bea’s thigh and abdomen to collapse next to her on the bed. The entire time, she was gasping for air like a beached shark, Bea becoming concerned she really had been cutting off her air. “Are you alright?” Bea asked. “I’m fine,” Flora said between pants, “I could breathe the whole time, but I might not have realized how little oxygen I was getting each time, trapped down there.”

“That would explain how you managed to grind out a load humping the bed,” Bea said, staring down at the long slick of cum on her sheets that was becoming a nightly occurrence again. “I keep hearing it’s a myth that holding your breath and similar can increase your pleasure, but in my experience it seems not to be.”

“I’m not surprised I came,” Flora said, “you have no idea how many boxes that checked for me. If we can find a way for you to sit directly on my face without breaking my neck or suffocating me, we are doing it immediately.”

“How are you feeling?” Bea asked. “If you’re asking if I’m still ready to get fucked,” Flora laughed, “I don’t think I could be readier.” “That’s not what I was asking,” Bea said, “but now that you mention it, cutting off the orgasm you just gave me from making my cock shoot off was a harrowing ordeal, and I’d like to relieve that burden when you’re feeling up to it.” “Put it in me,” Flora moaned, “I feel like I’m totally part of you right now, and I need this feeling to last as long as it can.”

Bea got up and finally applied the lube to herself. “You never answered my question, though,” Bea said. “I actually wanted you to leave your bra on for that,” Flora said, “but now I really need my nightly dose of that showstopping rack.” “Yes, ma’am,” Bea said with a girlish squeak. With a showgirl shimmy, Bea freed her twin giants and tossed Flora her bra like she was a screaming fangirl in the front row. “My big saggy tits appreciate your devoted admiration,” Bea said, lifting them while she looked down at her bosom. “Stop,” Flora said, “you know how hot you are.”

Flora opened her legs, and Bea climbed on top of her. Bea gingerly slid inside, Flora’s response this time being less overwhelming excess and more comfortable relief, like rather than feeling Bea inside her, she had been feeling her absence before, and that emptiness had departed. Even with experienced partners, Bea always started slow with anal, so even as Flora became more accustomed to her, she continued to be cautious. After the initial entry and a few very easy strokes, though, she started to accelerate to her normal pace. “Come here,” Flora said. “Closer.”

Bea leaned in, and dipped even lower when Flora beckoned for more. Flora had pulled one of the pillows behind her under her back, and with Bea hanging over her, she clamped her lips onto Bea’s breast, sucking her nipple with the same fervor she had last time, the same zealous hunger she had for her clit. Just as this had proved a little too much for Flora previously, Bea was enjoying this more than she expected on the other end. Bea had no reason, technically, to hold back the orgasm that was beginning to stir already. Flora was more than satisfied, her dick still mostly limp even with Bea giving her plenty of reason for it to rise from the dead after the streak of joy she’d left on the bed. Bea had clearance for liftoff. Her pride, though, would have been a little damaged if she’d given a two-pump performance for Flora for only their third encounter. Bea slowed her efforts, sometimes stopping almost completely. Ms. Buck usually didn’t talk much during sex unless she was in domme mode, but it sometimes helped distract her when she needed it. Getting Flora to talk would also spare her a few seconds of toe-curling suckling, which would aid her stamina even more.

“You love nursing at my big, motherly tit,” Bea said, “watching you enjoy yourself like that is adorable, and it makes me wonder what you really want. Do you want me to hold you like a baby? I can do that.” “Maybe I do, sometimes,” Flora said. “Sometimes it seems like you want romance and kisses and cuddles,” Bea said, “and sometimes you just want to be pinned down and ravished like an animal, and sometimes you want to be dominated with everything I have in me except my dick, for hours and hours if I could stand it, before you want the main event. I just want to know what you like.”

“I don’t even know if I know what I like anymore,” Flora said, “and it seems like I never did. I haven’t…done a lot. And what I have done, I wasn’t exactly doing all that often. But we’ve done all the things you just said, and I loved them so much. The only thing I worry about…” Flora got quiet again, and not, it seemed, because she was being fucked with what felt like an arm.

“Tell me, baby,” Bea said. “I just worry that I have to choose,” Flora said, “and I don’t want to. I want all of it. And we’ve done all of it, and you like it too. I know we can have those things. But I want all of them at the same time. I don’t want to give up one for another.”

Bea smiled, gazing down at the woman she loved like she was falling for her all over again. “I know,” she said, “and I want to find that too. I want to find the magical place where those things all meet, and I want us to live there forever.”

“You’ve taken me there,” Flora said. “Maybe for just a second, but sometimes, I feel all of it. All of it at once. The first time, I really, really did. And it’s not even the domme stuff, or the sex, or any one thing. It’s not physical. It’s…”

“It’s more than that,” Bea said. “It’s the way you look at me, sometimes,” Flora said. “It’s when you look at me, and I forget everything. When you look at me like that, that’s when I feel it all at once.”

“Am I looking at you that way right now?” Bea asked, her voice trembling a little. “I love you so much,” Flora said, the same look in her own eyes now too. Bea couldn’t hold back anymore, but she didn’t want to. For the first time in a long, long while, Beatrix Buck felt a few tears rolling down her cheeks when she passed the threshold. When it was all over, her entire body felt weak.

When Bea hit the bed, less lying than dropping, she was still panting and gasping almost the way Flora had been when she escaped Bea’s fleshly prison. Once she started to catch her breath, she clutched Flora to her chest, and the only words she could manage were “I love you.” Flora’s eyes began to water a bit as well, her voice cracking as she nearly whispered, saying “I am lost in you, Bea.” Flora let herself cry it out the way Beatrix Buck still managed to keep a lid on, and when Bea laid her comforting hand on the back of Flora’s head, Flora returned to sucking, albeit more gently, on Bea’s nipple. She cocked a leg over Bea’s, arm reaching around her back, latching on strongly, wanting nothing to separate this attachment. Nothing did. Flora fell asleep latched to Bea’s magnificent breast, clinging to it with love, not lust. Bea kept herself awake long enough to see Flora slip away, the sight making her heart flutter with unconditional adoration, then closed her own eyes and joined Flora in a well-earned sleep.


End file.
